


Down the Road

by RectifiedPear



Category: Lady and the Tramp (1955)
Genre: Dogs, F/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 21:30:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18352094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RectifiedPear/pseuds/RectifiedPear





	Down the Road

Tramp stepped out, legs shaky in the winter chill. The leash was slack, Jim Dear far behind him, yet distracted with the formalities of saying words that all meant he'd be back later to see Darling. The mutt shook his age off in the dew and strode forward, paws toeing soft dirt and the spacing between bricks. Lady was sick, a passing illness. 'Bad food' the humans said, but Tramp knew it was more than that. She'd birthed four puppies and had watched them all grow. Scamp had kids now. Tramp was not above knowing years took their toll on females faster. 

Even so, he carried on. Jim Jr ran out, talking a storm as his dad laughed and Tramp struggled to keep up. Jim Jr had gone through phases. Dogs were great, dogs were annoying, dogs were cute, dogs were ugly and smelly. It was a messy whirlwind of changing day to day and being flexible with the finicky nature of humans. He found he'd only bended so far, especially when things had developed into his kids all scattered to many homes, based on a whim that was not far placed from reality. The kids had been bored, puppyhood and a new dog who was not a puppy had faded fast.

Trotting the streets, he ignored the nagging thought that he might outlive Lady, that he might grow old without her. He cared for her greatly, but he'd lost so many dogs before. _Maybe that's why I've been a tramp._ The streets were unwelcoming, a myriad of messy car accidents, dog catchers, and people mistaking a smaller dog for a fox. _Or shooting us for fun._ In some of the worse areas, they weren't above killing a dog for more than fun. 

Lady had never known it all, he'd never told her it all. As he passed a block and turned in time with Jim Dear, he decided, not for the first time, she'd never know it. He'd barely shown her his world and she'd barely managed. Scamp had handled until he'd interfered. And for what? For his son to be living elsewhere, visited once a month or seen across the streets. So a family with humans was just a family divided and scattered across the winds with roofs instead of alleys.

A chill swept down his spine, he ached in ways that were not new, but slowly nagging him worse. _Used to be in my prime._ He used to be The Tramp, a looker. Now heads turned, but rarely were they the new dogs, old turned and admired him, his friends, canines he knew who weren't gone. Trusty had been a good friend. Jock wasn't over that yet. Time and injury claimed them all. Tramp hated it. 

Was this how humans on the streets felt? Was this what the cold ones thought before they went stiff and didn't wake up? Tramp's circle returned him to the house. Un-clipped from the leash, he walked inside as the door was opened. Leaving both human males behind him.  
The couple's bedroom was with a slight smell of peeling paint hidden under fresh, and he felt an urge to scratch the walls and get a scolding as he moved to Lady's side. Her breathing was steady, whimpers escaping with every breath. Her muzzle bore a few white hairs, his was grayer than it used to be, a few white hairs now trailed his legs to end upon his paws. 

He put his head over her neck, protecting her throat from invisible threats, and growling at invisible beings who crept into rooms and stole the light from the eyes of dogs. They were not rats or dogs, but he hoped to still fight them off when they came.


End file.
